


an appeal to poison

by TrainRush



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [7]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: ...vaguely mentioned by grooves at the end, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vomiting, whether or not conductor survives is up to interpretation ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrainRush/pseuds/TrainRush
Summary: DAY 7: poisoningThe Conductor has a lot of things, but healthy coping mechanisms aren’t among them.—(or, alternatively, the conductor attempts to drink himself to death.)
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105115
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	an appeal to poison

Something had clicked in the Conductor’s mind that night that made him lose himself.

It started out small. Maybe it was a thought or two that crossed him that he never focused on or gave any mind to. Then it began to spread, infectious, until it became a question that lingered in the back of his mind, begging to be addressed. The question was an intrusive one, for sure, and it was wildly unsafe, but he couldn’t get it to leave. So it stayed, making itself home in a way.

The Conductor had been drinking that night, just a bit more so than usual. He had been feeling miserable lately, and he had thought that maybe a drink or two would help relieve him of some of his stress. Then, of course, that thought — that _question_ — appeared in his mind and set him off balance. It was tempting to answer, yet at the same time, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to commit with a yes or a no. It would have been too much of a burden to carry either way.

It was only when he was several drinks into his night that he began to be met with thoughts that said “unless.”

They tempted him to answer the question, lingering and working to persuade him. They begged, _pleaded_ for him to say yes. To let himself indulge, to go overboard a bit.

As his thoughts mingled, he took a step back for a moment to try and think more logically about the question at hand.

The question had started out as a statement. An intrusive thought. _Drink yourself to death._ Of course, doing that would be a dangerous and awful way to go, but…

_Do you want to go through?_

_Do you want to drink yourself to death?_

…the question remained in his mind. His thoughts told him that if he did — if he gave in — all his pain would end. He wouldn’t need to drink anymore. He wouldn’t need to suffer anymore.

The Conductor sighed, tapping his foot on the floor of his office. This was stressful. And to think he’d started drinking to get away from the stress.

_You wouldn’t be stressing if you were dead._

Sure, maybe not, but there were better ways to go. As he reasoned with himself, he took another sip from the glass on his desk.

_Who cares? There’s an opportunity right now. Everyone’s either asleep or busy._

Either way, he wasn’t ready. Not tonight. Later, maybe.

_Yes tonight, asshole. You know you want to._

The Conductor tipped his glass and swirled the contents around before taking another sip. Couldn’t his thoughts just shut up already?

_They’d be perfectly silent if you were dead._

The Conductor shook the thought from his head, but reached for the bottle to refill his glass anyway. Maybe he’d drink more than usual, but he wouldn’t overdo it. After what they’d put him through that night, he just wanted his thoughts to shut up.

So, the Conductor reclined back in his chair and continued drinking.

And he continued drinking.

And he continued.

And the clock on the wall ticked into the late night hours.

The air around him became heavy as he became sleepier and sleepier.

Everything seemed to darken in the Conductor’s vision. 

And yet his thoughts still wouldn’t cease. No matter what he did, he found himself consistently met with thoughts of self-loathing and appeals to suicide. And so he continued drinking, as though drowning himself in alcohol would work to drown out his thoughts. Occasionally it did work, but they always found a way somehow. He distantly wondered how. This had never happened on previous nights.

Eventually, he began to feel sick. The nausea felt like poison to him as he tried his best to suppress it.

_This isn’t so bad, is it?_

_Definitely less painful than stabbing yourself._

_Or blowing up._

The Conductor no longer had the mental capacity to rebuke any of his thoughts. Instead, he found himself agreeing, letting them take power over him.

_So c’mon, take advantage of this chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t._

He really _would_ regret it, wouldn’t he? The cycle would just start up and over again, and he’d just become depressed and hopeless and suicidal all over again, every day of his life feeding into that miserable circle.

_End it now._

Maybe he would. It wouldn’t hurt that much to at least try. The worst that could possibly happen would be getting hospitalized, but then he could just make up some excuse about him accidentally going overboard. He chuckled a little. Ah yes, an accident. The amount of times he’d used that excuse was outstanding. And it worked every time. Why wouldn’t it work this time, hm? If he had survived and he was lucky, he wouldn’t even remember any of it. It would be perfect. Perfect.

He finished his glass and poured another.

Even just sipping that next glass, he could feel his nausea increase.

But hey, it’d be worth it, right? Throwing up wasn’t that painful.

Not only that, but he could feel himself becoming more and more detached. Lost. Like he couldn’t think for himself anymore. His thoughts were completely blocked out by now, replaced with a thick fog that covered his whole consciousness. It was almost blissful — had it not been for the nausea alongside it, of course.

The Conductor brought the glass up to his mouth to finish the alcohol in it before feeling a sudden, powerful wave of nausea overcome him. Wincing, he set the glass down sloppily and stumbled out of his chair to his trash can before completely emptying his stomach.

Alongside the vomiting came the onslaught of a headache, which somehow made the Conductor even dizzier than he already was. With all the grace of a piece of plastic, he attempted to steady himself and walk back towards his desk. Although his stumbling wasn’t very successful, he made it and sat himself back down in his chair, still recovering from his earlier sickness. Somehow, he even still felt nauseous, though much less so than before. He finished the glass of alcohol he’d left on his desk and poured another, spilling some on the desk as he did so. He hardly cared, though. 

All he had to do was keep drinking. It’d all be over soon, right?

Of course it would be.

—

Although DJ Grooves hardly ever stayed up as late as he was, that night he had made an exception. The work he had been doing that night took a bit longer than he expected, and as such, he ended up staying much later. It was around midnight, maybe half past, when he finally finished the work and began making his way to the elevator to take the files upstairs. From there, he could finally begin to settle down for the night.

Content with his work, Grooves walked calmly through the halls of the basement, passing a multitude of rooms on his way. Although every door looked the same, he knew the purposes of almost all of them. They were mostly storage rooms, and every once in a while there was a changing room. Each important in their own special ways. As he walked, a thought crossed his mind that he should check in on the Conductor. He figured checking in on his rival couldn’t hurt, and Grooves changed his path a bit to head towards the Conductor’s office.

Unlike Grooves, the Conductor almost always stayed up much later than him doing work, sometimes even into the morning hours. On those nights, he slept in the basement rather than on his train. Which, judging by the fact that Grooves had never seen the Conductor leave the studio that day, he figured tonight would be one of those nights. He wasn’t surprised, though. The Conductor had been quite apparently very stressed all day, which led Grooves to believe there was a lot of work to be done on his end. 

He sighed. The Conductor had always prioritized his work above his own health, for as long as he could remember. Even on days where he was the most stressed and exhausted, he just refused to let himself sleep. To let himself put his guard down and rest. Instead, he always resorted to some kind of harmful coping mechanism, such as drinking or overworking himself. And on some nights, both. Grooves had tried to talk to him about it in the past but to no avail. As he shook his head sadly, Grooves paused and looked around at where he was. He was just nearby, and he’d be at the Conductor’s office soon. Continuing onwards, Grooves just hoped that he wouldn’t yell at him.

Eventually, after rounding a few corners, DJ Grooves stopped in front of a red door with lights shining from underneath it. Tucking his papers under one arm, he knocked.

Yet there was no response.

Grooves frowned, knocking again.

And again, no response. 

Had the Conductor fallen asleep at his desk? It wouldn’t have been the first time. Grooves almost chuckled a little.

“Conductor?” he called. “It’s me.”

He paused for a moment, waiting for the door to open, but it didn’t. He knocked again.

“Darling?”

But there was still no response. He began to worry, taking his papers and setting them on some boxes to the side.

“I’m gonna come in, alright?”

Grooves frowned. Was he even in there? Carefully, he reached out at the doorknob and opened the door.

“Hello-?”

Opening the door to the Conductor’s office, the first thing that DJ Grooves noticed was the Conductor himself. Just as he had suspected, the latter had fallen asleep on his desk, head tucked into his arms. But the longer he stared at the scene, the more he felt his heart drop. The half-empty bottle of whiskey on his desk. Two more bottles to the side. His small trash can with splatters of vomit around it. 

Then he noticed that the Conductor wasn’t moving.

And his feathers had dulled down to a dusty grey.

The realization of what had happened dawned quickly, and Grooves began to panic.

“Conductor?!” he called out nervously.

Of course, though, there was no response.

Mortified, Grooves scrambled for his phone and dialed emergency services.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! the way that i describe conductor as being dusty grey at the end is a part of my fire spirit headcanons for him! bright gold indicates suicidal ideation (more specifically in reference to when the fire spirit in a hybrid goes awOOOGA and wakes up), normal is... normal, and the less color/more grey, the less healthy a person is :) tl;dr cond is Dying
> 
> also if you’re wondering how this answers the prompt, consider... alcohol poisoning


End file.
